Telling Stories
by JWizB
Summary: Years after Lyra and Will visit Ci'gazze, an old man tells their story as he saw it- as the story of two murderous thieves and the death of a hero. One-shot experimental fic.


**A/N: Phillip Pullman has said on more than one occasion that he think of himself as a storyteller, not a writer- the difference being that a writer's own style and turns of phrase are necessary to make a good story, but a storyteller's can still be entertaining no matter who tells it. I decided to try that theory out in this, just for fun. It's set in Cittàgazze, a few decades after Will and Lyra pass through. Bits of it are inaccurate or exaggerated- I did that on purpose, because stories are always exaggerated over time. Look at King Arthur.**

Phillip Pullman owns the _His Dark Materials _trilogy; I don't lay claim to any places, people, or events copyrighted to him that are mentioned here. However, I do own this piece of fanfiction, and I would ask that no one takes liberties with it. Constructive criticism for this would make me grovel helplessly in worship at your feet.

****

Telling Stories

"Tell me the story, Grandda."

"You naggin' still, boy? I thought you fell asleep hours ago."

"Tell me the **story**, Grandda!"

"A'right, a'right, no need to yell! What story you talking of?"  


"The one you always tell, 'bout the murderer and the liar and-

"Ah, **that** one. I see. Well, it began years back-"

"How far back?"

"Way back, before I could see Specters. I was only a little older than you. It started then, with all the grownups gone and children running wild through Ci'gazze in packs and gangs, buildings crumbling over, things rotting in the places they been set years before. Specters was always hovering around then, searching and searching for grownups hidin' under cobblestones and around every corner."

"Did they ever find any?" 

"Not in Ci'gazze, not real ones- and they couldn' catch us kids, 'cause we didn' get afraid of them 'til we grew up. Anyway, it was round then that two strange kids come to the city-"

"How?"

"They appeared, right out of the air."

"But how they do that?"

"They used magic; magic like the men in the Torre del Angeli used to use, to get here from someplace different. They must've, 'cause they the strangest kids we seen.

"The boy- he was a giant! He was tall and strong like a grownup, and had cold dark eyes that looked through you. He could kill people, we knew, and he was fearless- he not even afraid of cats!"

"No! And the girl?"

"The girl wasn't so big or strong, but she was clever, clever as devils- you could see it in her eyes. They had an evil fire in them. She was a liar, all right, and an enchantress, and she keep a magic devil with her like a big spotted cat. The boy was there to protect 'em both, 'cause he a murderer and wasn' afraid of nothin'.

"They come to Ci'gazze and they climb to the top of the Torre del Angeli."

"'Cause they want the knife!"

"Hush, you! Who tellin' this story?"

"You, Grandda."

"Right. Yeah, they wanted the knife, 'cause it was a magic knife that kept you safe from Specters."

"But they kids- why'd they need it?"

"They didn't **need** it, boy- but they want it, 'cause the girl was an enchantress and wanted to tame Specters, is my guess. So they climb to the top of the Torre, and they find Tullio.

"Tullio, now- he was a hero! He was tall and strong, almost as strong as the murderer from somewhere else, and he keeping the knife safe so that we kids could use it to kill Specters when we grow up. He related to me, too- in fact, he was my cousin. We all love him, 'cause he was grown up and still alive.

"But the murderer and the liar, they don't care 'bout that. They just want the knife for their own sake.

"So when they find Tullio, they fight with him for a long time, the liar with her devil-cat and the murderer with his strength. And soon enough the murderer win, but Tullio cut off his fingers, and he bleedin' all over the place. That made him mad, and so he took up the knife, and he call up a Specter with it, and it eat Tullio up inside so he nothin' but an empty shell.

"We kids see that, and we get crazy mad. Tullio was our hero, our protector, and they kill him, just like that! So we form together in a group, lots of us, and we find knives and a gun, and we storm off to the Torre del Angeli, and trap them on top. We just raise the gun when..."

"What, Grandda?"

"Then... then in the sky there come evil women, coming down to help the enchantress and her devil- she called 'em to her. They fly on piney branches, screaming and yelling, with their hair flying behind them like the wind and dressed in black stormclouds. They swoop over us, with black arrows rainin' on our heads, and we run."

"What about the gun, Grandda? Couldn't you shoot 'em?" 

"**Gun**? Fool boy, you can't shoot women like that! They put spells on you, so that any bullet you shoot goes backwards and YOU get shot. So we run, and they snatch up the liar and the murderer into their white arms."

"What about the liar's devil?"

"We never saw it leave, but later we find a cat skulkin' through the Torre, mangy and miserable, yowlin'. We think it was the devil, all small and sad 'cause its mistress was gone."

"Were you afraid? Did you kill it?"

"'Course we did, and we weren' afraid- it couldn't do nothing, then, it all alone and powerless."

"And what about the liar and the murderer? What happened to them?"

"The evil women take them into the sky, up and up 'til we can't see them. We didn' hear about them anymore. But- lean closer, boy, I can't say this loud-"

"What is it?"

"This is what I hear- that those women carry them so far into the sky they crash into the angels, and they hate evil people like that. So the angels take up they piney branches and snap them, and the women and the liar and the murderer, they fall, forever and ever, until they reach the fire-pits, Hell itself."

"But if they fall forever... you're not **that** old, Grandda!"

"Hah! It's just what I heard, boy, whispers in Ci'gazze that went round and round like dead leaves in an autumn wind. I don't know if that ever happened. But the rest of it's true, sure as Specters. Now, will you sleep?"

"Yes, Grandda."

"All right. Goodnight, boy."

"'Night, Grandda."

************************************************************************

A few days later in the lands of the dead, when he told his story for the last time, the still air rang with the laughter of harpies.


End file.
